


Pearl

by sloganeer



Series: 1, 2, 3, 4, tell me that you love me more [12]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anniversary, Domestic Bliss, Future Fic, Husbands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 22:24:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20033332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sloganeer/pseuds/sloganeer
Summary: Patrick had a tomato soup on the stove. He stirred it gently, listening to the noon news, watching the tiny alphabet noodles peeking through red. They had fun pastas in the cupboard for the kids, but Patrick enjoyed indulging his husband, especially on days like today.-This is year 30.





	Pearl

He filled the cat’s bowls with dry food and cold water. It was easier to do it when she wasn’t twisting around his feet, demanding he serve her. She was probably upstairs in the studio with David. There was a bed up there (organic buckwheat fill with a removable cover that David changed with the seasons). They used to find her curled up in a nest of David’s fabric stash, but now she was always in her bed. She was getting old. They all were.

Patrick had a tomato soup on the stove. He stirred it gently, listening to the noon news, watching the tiny alphabet noodles peeking through red. They had fun pastas in the cupboard for the kids, but Patrick enjoyed indulging his husband, especially on days like today.

To go with the soup, he had made garlic cheese toast, using up the last of David’s most recent loaf. Ted was the one who had started the current fermentation obsession, with his homebrewing. A crockery of sourdough starter lived on their windowsill, but there was another one out in the orchard, wedged between two branches, picking up the wild yeasts from their apples. Patrick was excited to taste that bread.

Slowly, he carried the lunch tray up the stairs to his husband. There were only two ways to get David to take a break when he was in the middle of a project (this month it was planning the winter market season). Patrick had the food. Then there would be sex.

“Knock, knock,” he said, pushing backwards through the door.

“Smells good,” David answered.

Patrick made his way around David’s organised mess. He spotted the cat in her bed (so she was still alive at least), and David stood up to clear a space on the big table. 

“You love me so much it’s embarrassing,” he said.

Patrick leaned over the steaming bowls to collect a kiss. “Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary,” David echoed. “I told the kids not to interrupt us until we’re done having hot old people sex.”

As he sat, Patrick felt a twinge in his lower back, but he covered up his groan by turning it into an interested hmm. “You gonna give me a pearl necklace, baby?”

“We’ll see how long you last after lunch. You usually need a nap around this time.”

He kicked David under the table, starting off a battle of slippers. They slurped their soup, and Patrick turned the plate to let David have the bigger half of the garlic bread.

“Remember when sex was easy?” he said.

David sighed. “When we didn’t have to plan around you falling asleep?”

“When we didn’t have to wait for your meds to kick in?”

“When your back used to bend the other way and I could do you on the kitchen counter?”

With a chuckle, Patrick put down his spoon and reached across the table for David’s hand. He didn’t wear all four rings as often as he once did. David didn’t want to get them resized because he wouldn't give them up for even a week at the jeweller’s. Today, he wore the one which never left his ring finger and another which fit his thumb now. 

“Remember when our house wasn’t the Rose-Mullens central station?” Patrick asked.

“No, never. Our family has volunteered this place for every birthday and wedding and wake since we moved in.” He took a very big, very messy bite of his bread. “Why did we give them all house keys?”

“In case of emergencies.” Halfway through the sentence, Patrick realised it was going to rhyme, so he sang the last word with a shimmy of his shoulders. 

“This is your fault,” David told him. “You and your common sense killed our sex life.”

“David, I literally gave you a blowjob last night in bed.”

“Remember when you used to give me two blowjobs?”

“You were 34 when we met, baby. I never gave you two blowjobs in one night.”

This time, David shimmied for him, getting up out of his chair and coming around the table with a familiar leer on his face. His clear plastic rims slipped down his nose, so David reached up and just took his glasses off. “But you wanted to.”

“You know I wanted to. But I started too late.” Patrick turned in his seat and curved his hands around David’s hips. He was dressed cozy today, in a pair of dark grey sweatpants, like they had no plans for the rest of the day. He swayed back and forth in Patrick’s hold, fingers delicately tracing over Patrick’s ears, and Patrick knew David was following the line of grey in his hair with his thumb. “I’ll never give you all the blowjobs you deserve.”

When they felt steady together, one of David’s legs braced between Patrick’s knees, they moved towards each other and kissed, garlic on both their tongues, the flavour of comfort and care. Home-cooking, homestyle, home—the way they had made it work for them, together, for all these years.

But Patrick had to pull his mouth away. “I’m just worried you’re going to fall, baby, and I don’t know if I can catch you this time.”

“Fine,” David said. He rolled his eyes and went back to his seat across the table. “Let me finish my soup, and then I’ll take you back to bed. OK?”

Nodding, Patrick picked up his spoon and continued eating. “Text Alexis and tell them we need another hour.”

David snorted. “You wish.”


End file.
